Someone Who Cares
by xXCatastropheXx
Summary: Michelle and Kyle are on a mission to find Kyle's father, John Walden. But when tragedy strikes, what will they do? KyleOC as half-siblings. Rated M for obvious reasons..


I can still remember the day I first met my mom's boyfriend, John Walden. He was a kind man with a friendly smile, who gave me a warm fuzzy feeling when he was around. I had never known my real father, so having John around was like having a dad. It was great.

He treated me like a daughter, too, helping me out whenever I needed it and giving me advice. He always seemed to understand what I was going through, even if he had never gone through it in his entire life. I loved him, and soon, started to call him "dad".

And he made my mom happy, too. When he was around, she was just more happy and outgoing. My mother's smile was the most beautiful thing in the world, and having John to bring it to her face was amazing. I was so sure they were going to get married.

But then he left, and everything just seemed to fall apart. Mom was always crying, and she never came out of her room, and she never smiled anymore. And then she got sick. She started to throw up, and she was always tired. She was always getting headaches and backaches.. it was horrible.

Soon, she found out she was pregnant. And after she found that out, she got even more depressed. I guess it was because John wasn't around to help her care for the baby. I was pretty happy that I wouldn't be the only child anymore, and even if this baby wasn't my full sibling, I vowed to treat it as it was.

I helped my mother as best as I could, getting her whatever she wanted to eat(and boy did she have some weird cravings!) and helping her get up. She told me she was glad to have me around, and that without me, she wouldn't be able to get through the pregnancy. I felt proud.

Eventually, we found out she was having a baby boy. I had wanted a sister, but I was happy anyways, and helped her turn the guest room into my new brother's nursery. In the end, it looked great, and fixing it up with my mother helped us to grow closer. After that was done, we waited.

The day my mother brought home my brother was the most exciting day of my life. When I first saw him, I remember thinking he was the most beautiful baby ever, and when I first held him in my arms, I instantly fell in love with him. Mom named him Kyle, and that was that.

After Kyle was born, my mom started to smile again. It was like a beautiful rainbow after a terrible storm. She started to work again, leaving us in the care of our nanny, Mrs. Rogers. She started to go out to parties with her friends and meet guys. Though I was a little worried about who she was dating, I decided to keep quiet.

Unfortunately, some of the guys she brought home were real creeps. Several of them touched me and tried to do things to me, but I always screamed and fought them off. My mother would always pick the wrong guys, and soon, she went back into her depression. She felt like she would never be able to find someone to love again. She felt alone.

She started drinking and staying out longer, doing who knows what. As the years passed and we grew up, Mrs. Rogers moved, and I was left in charge of Kyle, who was 5. I was only 12 years old, and scared to stay home alone. But it wasn't all bad, because I knew Kyle so well, and it was easy to take care of him.

When mom started staying home, I noticed that she had a bunch of medicine, and eventually realized that she wasn't just taking it because she was sick. She started doing a lot of drugs, and drinking even more. And then she hit me. She hit me so hard, she knocked me down onto the ground. I couldn't believe it; all I could do was stand there, looking up at her in disbelief.

Kyle, since he was so young and curious, was in need of constant watching. And, since my mother was too busy drinking and laying around watching television, I had to look after him. I had to feed him. I had to make sure he bathed. I had to make sure he changed his clothes. And every night, I had to read him a story and put him to bed. It was almost like I was his mother rather than our own mother.

Over the years we spent together, Kyle and I grew a strong bond. I told him everything, even if he didn't understand. He was the one I cried to when I was sad, and he would try to comfort me. It was the sweet little things that he would do for me that made me happy. I felt lucky to have him around.

Now, Kyle is 9 and i'm 16. We're still living in the hell house with mom, but get this: we're not going to be here much longer. We've been talking, and we have a plan to get out of this place and leave this life behind.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, will stand in our way.


End file.
